


that way lies madness

by labocat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Yuri’s gala skate for Europeans is ballet, classical, and Otabek is torn between being glad Yuri hasn’t doneWelcome to the Madnesswithout him and wanting to ask why, why Yuri has closed himself off again, didn’t answer any of his messages that weekend.





	that way lies madness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miaou Jones (miaoujones)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/gifts).



They meet again on the ice, as they always do.

It’s been months since the Grand Prix Finals, months of only communicating through disparate time zones by Line and Whatsapp, through screens and photo. Small cell phone videos that don’t actually show anything, don’t come close to conveying the fluidity of movement on the ice.

Yuri’s gala skate for Europeans is ballet, classical, and Otabek is torn between being glad Yuri hasn’t done _Welcome to the Madness_ without him and wanting to ask why, why Yuri has closed himself off again, didn’t answer any of his messages that weekend. His free skate for Europeans is technically flawless, but he loses PCS points from all but the Russian judges. It’s not enough to lose him the top of the podium, not enough to garner anything less than a thumbs-up emoji and a smiling stamp from Otabek. He saves the speech for his cat, petting her long fur as he watches Yuri’s performance over and over, glad he wasn’t there and wondering if it would have been different if he had. 

Four Continents is a fight, like it always is, but especially now that the Japanese Yuuri has come back onto the scene in force. Otabek is glad for it, for the competition, knowing he stands on the podium in a place earned rather than granted. The snap he sends to Yuri is one he’d make his new profile photo on every social media page— he’s smiling, holding up his silver medal and leaning against the boards, still on the ice from the ceremony— but he wants this to be just between them. The way the snaps he gets from Yuri are always the best he’s ever seen of him tells him he’s not alone in that sentiment.

His heart flutters in his chest as he steps out of the cab in Helsinki, staring at the rink, then down at his phone, knowing that Yuri won’t be here yet, which makes it a perfect time to practice, free from distractions.

He wonders what Yuri’s gala skate will be.

The actual competition is a blur — the only clear points are the morning warmups and one particular set of crossovers, Yuri’s legs bending and rising before pushing forward into an effortless camel spin, the extension and line of it so graceful it makes Otabek’s heart ache. He wants to go over, skate alongside Yuri and supplement the spin, hands only resting because he knows Yuri doesn’t need him to support it. It would make the permission all the sweeter, knowing his hands were there because Yuri wanted them.

Instead he launches himself into a series of 3-turns, rougher and rougher until the loop he attempts from it turns from a quad to a double. He can feel Yuri’s eyes on him as he takes a drink of water, but refuses to meet them.

He’s cleaner with his quad loop in his programs, and it’s enough to somehow net him fourth, underneath a smiling Yuuri, a laughing JJ, and a scowing Yuri at the top, who won’t meet his eye even though they’ve been messaging back and forth good luck stamps all day. 

In the hallway back towards the warm-up room it’s impossible to avoid anyone, and the cover of noise and jostling bodies is perfect for Otabek to grab Yuri’s shoulder and steer him to the side, only resisting slightly. He tugs him over, down the hallway and into the thankfully empty room. He hasn’t dropped his hand from Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri either hasn’t notice or doesn’t mind, and Otabek isn’t about to disrupt that.

“What’s your gala skate?”

Whatever Yuri was gearing up to answer, whatever guard he’d been drawing up onto his fae, it wasn’t in expectation of that, and his hackles drop, almost instantly. He looks up to Otabek, those eyes piercing him through like they always had and tilts his head to the side, deceptively delicate but with a raptor’s consideration.

“ _Welcome to the Madness_. Of course.” He shifts a bit in a move that would be simply restless on anyone else, but Otabek is learning. He still hasn’t moved his hand from Yuri’s shoulder and doesn’t drop it when he knows others would. He steps forward instead of back, into Yuri’s orbit.

“You didn’t skate it at Europeans.”

“Of course not.” Otabek wants to step back, instinctively, at the look in Yuri’s eyes, but his next words keep him rooted in place. “You weren’t there.”

“But I’m here now.”

Yuri looks at the hand on his shoulder, then at Otabek, raising an eyebrow and all but rolling his eyes. “That’s why I’m doing it. Obviously.”

Otabek watches his face carefully, realizing that if he hadn’t been here, now, Yuri’s gala skate would’ve likely still been one Lilia had choreographed for him. He never would have asked because Otabek might’ve said no.

“I’ll need to borrow your gloves, then. My bike is still at home— it doesn’t do well in the cold.” His hand runs up from Yuri’s shoulder, tentatively, to cup Yuri’s jaw and it feels like time is slowing down as Yuri tracks the movement, body still except for the movement of his eyes. Then, he tips into Otabek’s hand, whatever fleeting comparison Otabek was about to make to the way his cat nudged his hand for pets pushed aside by the feeling of Yuri’s lips against his palm, by the way Yuri’s eyes look back up to meet his.

“Only if you return them to me right after the skate,” Yuri says, finally pushing away from Otabek’s hand to move towards the door, back to the hallway. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Otabek answers, entirely confused as to why he’d need to agree to return something he was borrowing. He stands there, watching the empty door until his phone pings. It’s the Line chat with Yuri, now updated with four numbers that look oddly close to his hotel room number that he stares at for entirely too long. Oh. _Oh_. 

He sends back a thumbs-up stamp at once. He was learning indeed.


End file.
